


Broken World

by Redfire_Dragon



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Acceptance, Crystal MagiTech, F/M, Flighted creatures must fly, Freedom, Going through the episodes for fun, Oppression and Cruelty, Prime AU, Sad Ratchet was too sad, Shapeshifter aliens, Slow Build, Starts on another planet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redfire_Dragon/pseuds/Redfire_Dragon
Summary: Inspired by Artemis_Dreamer's Ratchet in Squishy Traitors series  (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10192160 )My muse decided to drop dead on me so while I do have several chapters completed, they are future ones with no bridge to them so this is on hiatus for now. I will return to it, need to watch Transformer: Prime again and perform a resurrection ceremony of some sort.





	1. Prologue: The Call

Her scales itched. She didn't even technically have them right now, the pale skin on her arms unblemished save for a couple deep sets of claw scars. Scarlet's metallic left hand moved from the holo-keyboard to scratch at the skin near her elbow where her scales normally would have transitioned to bald mammalian skin. "Bother." The scratching didn't help of course, the scales weren't there to be relieved by it. At this rate she would develop welts that her superiors would not doubt use to try to get her put away as a madwoman.

She could practically hear it now, their voices saccharine sweet full of false concern. "After all she's been though its no _wonder_ she lost it." "There is only so much a mind can take before it breaks." "I'm surprised she lasted this long." "It's such a shame." and worst of all "She will be missed." That would be Lord Tregoth, he could never help grinding salt in the wounds with his honeyed lies that fooled all but his peers. And her of course, she always knew and he hated it, even feared her for it. Which was why he used them to spite and insult her every chance he got while fooling all the world into thinking he was a gentle saint.

She had never been interested in politics, her focus on keeping the colonists safe on a world full of large dangerous beasts, running the army navy and air forces, training those who desired to help protect and ignoring how they governed themselves. She was a warrior not a ruler. But then the flatfaced nobility (who the original colonists had left Kestra to escape), failing to conquer Kestra and rule it as they desired, had come to the flourishing colony world of Garrison to try again. Their approach had been subtle, using cunning words and brainwashing skills, mixing truth and lies they twisted ideologies and religious tenants, changing their meanings to justify their oppression of the lower classes (whom they classified as lesser beings) especially of Hybrids, declaring that to mix blood between the races was an abomination before their god, and the children of such unions were half creatures, little more than intelligent animals who's only purpose in existing was to serve their betters like drones until the labor cost their very lives.

Scarlet hadn't even realized the shift until it was well underway, the flatfaces using their superior PR skills, terrible tech, and illegal tools and skills to subvert the minds and hearts of the people. She had tried to stop it, speaking out against the oppression, declaring on no uncertain terms that all people were born equal, that each had just as much a right to happiness and choosing their own paths as any other. Such was her sway over the people, so high in their estimation as their guardian and protector, that she had begun to undo the damage, by the force of honesty and the respect she commanded pulling popular opinion back toward where it should be.

That was when the flatfaces realized that she would be the greatest obstacle to their takeover and continued rule. That was when the assassination attempts had begun.

That had been over a century ago.

Scratch scratch scratch. Scarlet let out a grunt of frustration as she forced her left hand to return to the holo-keyboard. She had so much data to input, and it all had to be done by hand. She let out a disgusted snort. The flatfaced nobility might not be able to strip her of her rank, or even demote her for fear of revolt among the populace who still revered her so very deeply, but they had stolen her command, changing her duties, responsibilities until she was little more than a glorified quartermaster, monitoring supplies and supervising the tubes of the sleepers in the warrior vaults. She was technically still a general but had only a token unit of soldiers, more a set of rotating bodyguards (that kept being changed to prevent her from "poisoning their minds"). Half of them were flatface agents set to assassinate her, the other half inexperienced soldiers who looked at her with stars in her eyes, assigned to her so the flatfaced assassins could have some way to hurt her at least since killing her was so ineffective.

Ah killing her. No matter what they tried she came back. That was the trick about being immortal after all, she always came back. She had been shot, blown up, torn apart, burned alive, crushed, poisoned, and a hundred other things, only to rise again a few days later. It was funny, no matter what happened to her, no matter how bad it was, she could recover in a matter of days if it actually killed her even if it might take a month or more to heal and repair if she had survived. The only reason the flatfaces had started trying to demote her, or drive her into retirement, was because they _couldn't_ kill her, Or couldn't make it stick anyway. At one point they had even finagled a way to convict her of treason and had her electrocuted until all that remained was a smoking wreck and then had her drawn and quartered only to find her back at work, snapping at the recently decanted soldiers she was training two days later as if nothing had happened. They had even managed to atomize her once but no matter what they tried she always came back. So they had found other ways to try to force her into line. These bodyguards (supposedly to help protect her from assassination attempts, as if she wasn't the most dangerous warrior on the face of the planet and rose from the dead like darksinging phoenix) were one of those ways, putting innocent children in the line of fire for her to protect from those trying to kill her. The message was clear. Obey, be silent, or the children will die.

And there were so many they could kill. They had their assassins after all, plenty of sharp edged tools to be used for whatever purpose they desired. A killing at a school for commoners. An explosion in an outlying village. Poisoning a young bodyguard who hadn't even begun to live his life. So she had gone quiet. She hadn't been good at the PR anyway, but they could not stop her quiet disapproval. She might be perfectly polite, and publicly tell everyone to obey the law like good little citizens, and even attend those drass cursed parties and events the flatfaced purists forced her to attend as an ornament, a prize, a beast they had tamed, but it was still there, her silent disapproval. They could silence her voice, they could force her to behave by threatening those she was sworn to protect, but they could not make her agree with their evil. None of their tricks or tools could change her mind or spirit, and it crept forth from her, tendrils of light and truth, waking the minds of those ensnared by the flatfaced nobles' lies. That was why they feared her, why they could not leave her be. She was the antithesis of all they stood for, she had the words, the truths, the power to destroy all their cunning had wrought. So they bound her with threats and nipped at her with humiliations and petty punishments as they sought ways to put her away for good.

Stupid data. It would have been easier, far easier, to just link directly into the computer to input and process the data, but last time someone had booby trapped her computer with a nasty virus. Somehow she had managed to protect her files from being breached, her secrets stolen, but not the programs that ran her integrated systems. Chemicals were released, organs major and minor failed, and every gear, engine, and servo in her artificial limbs tore themselves apart as the wires running through her body nearly melted with the heat. She had been out for weeks as her body rebuilt itself and and mechanics and surgeons repaired her cyborg parts. She hadn't realized how much of her autonomous nervous system was regulated by the hardware in her head instead of what was left of her organic brain. Never before had being a cyborg seemed like such a great weakness. Forget about the classic 'have your victim punch themselves with their automated limbs', anyone with sufficient coding skills could shut down her lungs and heart or unlock a sequence of chemicals and flashbacks to send her into a berserker rage, or rewrite her priority trees or force a change to her goals.

Her mind went to a friend of hers. He had been cyborg too, even more so than she, and brilliant. She was by no means a slacker when it came to maintaining and expanding the software that protected her systems, making time to study and practice coding everyday to keep up, but he had been a genius. All of his codes and hardware had always been of his own design and cutting edge. She wished she could go to him now for advice. But he had died. And his world had died. And the star it had orbited had exploded into a vast nebula that had mixed with the cosmic dust from a thousand other explosions to form new worlds circling new stars. In a way he was still around, the destruction of his home solar system had not destroyed the atoms that had made up his body. They were still out there, merely transformed from being one complete unit to being a tiny bit of millions of people and things. But that still meant she couldn't go talk to him even if she managed to return to the alternate reality he had existed in. Even so his world called to her, not the long dead one he had lived and died on, but its twin in this iteration of reality.

She tried to ignore it, she had work to do, horrors to avert, but every line of thought bent toward it, every muscle twitched in anticipation, ever nerve sang with the need of the call. Garrison's civil war still hung in the realm of potential and there was so little she could do to remedy the situation until it started. Then again, maybe this was what Garrison needed too. Perhaps without her there to soften the blows, the patience of the oppressed might finally be broken causing them to finally rise up and seek the freedom to choose. Her heart bled for the suffering of Garrison's children, her children, but until they were ready to believe being enslaved was wrong she could not help them to obtain that freedom that was the birthright of all sentient beings. Perhaps she had been bled dry and this call came to take her away to a new and different crisis to renew her feeling heart before the war began. Her mind ran through options as her processor helpfully spat out an endless list of all the possible pros and cons that could result from choosing to follow through on each idea that came to mind.

So much for working on paperwork.

Scarlet let out a frustrated sigh and stood, stretching slowly. She needed to fly. It would give her a chance to clear her head and come up with a plan. As she headed for the door to her office she noticed the itch in her scales had lessened. She realized then that she had already decided to go, now it was only a question of how and what she would do before she left.


	2. Prologue: Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More background for Garrison and Scarlet/Rachel

"But General RazorClaw, the doctor hasn't cleared you-"

"I've been practicing medicine since before his ancestors were _booorn_. I clear myself." Scarlet snarled kicking off her boots. It had been weeks since her "accident" (see Assassination Attempt 18531: Fun things to do with a Box of Shrapnel Grenades). The only reason she hadn't been cleared for flight was that about halfway through removing the shrapnel from her brain she had detected someone trying to implant something. They had given her enough anesthetics to knock out a platoon so they hadn't been expecting her to break the offender's arm much less get up and storm out of the hospital (crashing through a couple walls on the way) leaking blood like a colander. She hadn't seen a doctor since, preferring to keep her care in the only hands that wouldn't betray her, her own.

"But sir! Regulations clearly state that military personnel will not operate flying vehicles without medical clearance regardless of personal rank or experiences."

She threw her dress pants at him with a wicked grin. "Who said anything about a vehicle?" She purred fingers undoing the clasps of her hated formal general's coat. She hated the constrictive uniform, a punishment for some now forgotten offence (as was the rule that she wear full dress uniform during the performance of all duties now that she thought about it), and always wore something more relaxed beneath on the off chance she might find some excuse to shed it. Usually her sense of modesty prevented her from shedding the garments in public yet here she was on the airstrip by the major drill grounds, tossing her uniform top and belt at the guard accompanying Private Regulations. The man looked as if he had been enjoying watching too much and she realized he wasn't the only one. The moment she had left the confines of her building her energy field had begun to spread out, slowly engulfing the entire outdoors of the base. Now she could feel the prickling of thousands upon thousands of fields within hers. Almost all the drills had stopped as everyone, male and female, focused on her, watching. It wasn't overly lecherous, there were few who gave off that vibe, it wasn't that she was pretty, even by the notoriously accommodating standards of Hybrids. No it was the shock and excitement of seeing the most decorated General on the planet shucking off the vestments of her station without a thought. It was getting to see the hero of their world being her true self instead of the self contained officer that existed just for show.

Too late she realized that in her excitement she had let her tightly controlled field relax, her true emotions and inclinations there for all to feel. Hybrids communicated quite a bit using their personal energy fields, she might as well have shouted her feelings for the whole compound, her voice wouldn't have reached nearly so far. Her unease swirled through her field as she gazed out over the drill grounds at the part of her audience she could see. Flickering twinkling like a million stars she could feel them reacting to her embarrassment through their own fields.

Well too late now, it was all out there, better to just roll with it. She inhaled slowly, eyes closed, letting herself soak in the waves of adoration, glee, pride and hope that swelled their hearts at the mere sight of her. There was jealousy too, resentment, anger, twinges of fear and secret shame. They were people, none were perfect, and she accepted that, and loved them all the more for their imperfections. She let that love come forth, not forcing it out to them but letting it naturally flow outward, thickening her field as it enveloped them. Her mind reached out to sense and assess each individually. There were no names or faces, just people and their problems. This one was afraid, Scarlet's field shifted to comforting around them, soothing them. This one had a headache, a gentle surge in the energy field and the pain vanished. This one thought she was awesome, Scarlet gently pried up a memory of something they had done that she was impressed with. This one had recently fought with a friend, reassurance and a gentle chiding to be honest about one's feelings. This one was excited, well so was she. I am alone. I love you, I cherish you. Will I ever be happy? Continue to seek, nothing worth having is easily attained. I hate my uniform. So do I. I know, I saw you throw it off, that was awesome. I hate you. Well too bad, I love you anyway.

On and on it went, her consciousness flicking from one to the next to the next, processor humming as it allowed her to contact and address each individually without missing a single one in a fraction of the time her organic brain could have managed unaided. She helped, built up, healed those she could reach, assuring them of her love. Some tried to block her out with hate or anger because she spoke out against the flatfaced overlords. Those she called out to gently, offering her love despite their antagonism bristling against her. There were more of those each day, flatface weapons aimed at her, wound up by lies and propaganda. Flatfaced officers, with their naturally weaker, less sensitive fields, mostly disincluded themselves, uncomfortable with or outright loathing this method of communication. Those she did not press. Some though, of kinder hearts and softer minds, who saw the Hybrids not as overly intelligent animals, as was preached by the flatface rules, but as people of their own right, these were drawn in, the power of Scarlet's own field compensating for the weakness of theirs. These were her children, the children of Garrison, those she had sworn to protect. They loved her, they looked up to her, they trusted her, just as their ancestors had so long ago when they convinced her to stay and live on Kestra with them, or as their much more recent ancestors had when they convinced her to leave Kestra with them to colonize Garrison. She belonged to them just as much as, perhaps even more than, they belonged to her.

And yet she was needed elsewhere.

Immediately she shut down the hyper-awareness and active factors to her field, shifting it into something passive and less expressive. Some would still have picked up on it though, that wistfulness, the pull earth was exerting on her. But they were patient, when it came to her at least, they could wait for her to explain, knowing she would not make them wait long. The whole process had taken only a couple minutes (146 seconds her HUD helpfully displayed). She opened her eyes and looked over at the two guards, who still had her outer clothes draped on them. Like her, and most of those involved, they hadn't moved during the, what did they call it when she did that? Soul singing? 'Correct' her processor informed her as it accessed a file, 'Soul singing: called for the connection it forges between souls, singing aspect for its beauty and its power to uplift and strengthen the recipients, much as good music can.'

There were others who could communicate just as expertly though their energy fields, but they were desperately few. Perhaps if they had their freedom and were allowed to form natural family groups their souls would learn to sing too. She knew the Hearts of some of the more stable prowls were starting to be called soul speakers for their ability to comfort, strengthen, and heal injured hearts and minds of their prowlmates using little more than their own energy fields. It was one thing to heal the body but the mind and soul? Such individuals were jealously guarded, the extent of their abilities kept secret by their prowls for fear of having them shuffled away by military superiors.

What miracles these soul speakers would learn to work.

While the flatfaces oppressed them and denied them basic rights, claimed they weren't even people, the Hybrids were developing something beautiful, something truly precious, something that could change not just this world, but every world. It was a good and kind and honest and a language of love that might, in time, bridge the gaps between all the peoples of the universe. And it came from those most hated and despised, those who gladly submitted to the cruel whims of their masters, who accepted an existence of pain and suffering and degradation as their just due not because of anything they or their ancestors had done but because they truly believed their place in the grand scheme of things was beneath the heels of their oppressors, licking up the dust and singing the praises of those who so shamefully used them as they were ground into dust. It was like finding delicate lilies growing in the belly of a slaughterhouse. But perhaps it was the harsh circumstances that caused this new form of communication to develop as it had. Diamond, the king of stones, emperor of crystals, could only form under the most brutal of heat and pressure.

If she ever found out that someone somewhere had finagled this whole mess, this web of lies and brainwashing and mass produced oppression just to create this beautiful treasure, she would tear their heart out and make them eat it. Yes there was great beauty and power to soul singing, and if it were not destroyed by the flatfaces it might develop into a powerful healing and uniting force but the cost? The machine that produced this wonder ran on cruelty. IT swallowed children and families and ground them up between its gears. Hopes and dreams were sucked out of its victims so thoroughly it was as if they had never been. Not just the minds and bodies but their very souls were crushed and perished destroyed by despair and emptiness. Nothing was worth that cost. She would never sacrifice innocent souls of children for any prize. The world was broken. Garrison was broken. This whole universe was broken, gaping bleeding wounds, and somehow, she was was going to fix it. And maybe, just maybe, if she could awake the Hybrids and protect and guide them on the path to freedom, if the kindness of their hearts as a whole did not fail them, if they learned how to use soul singing to communicate with all creatures, then maybe, just maybe, they could become the healers and mediators the universe needed.

'Smells pretty.' She came back to her surroundings looking over at the guard who was now unabashedly sniffing at her shirtcoat. She remembered him from the soul singing, though his field had been so flushed with embarrassment she had trouble sensing why at first. He was still a bit embarrassed but seemed to have taken her lack of scolding as permission of sorts, his field gently humming with pleasure at the smell. He was certainly one of the younger ones, the raw innocent delight sang of the freshness and newness of life, experiencing things for the first time. Not surprising then that he had not spoken and his companion had been so strict about regulations, the elder one was training him, acclimating him to life outside the tube.

Private Regulations was succumbing to the influence of his companion's field and holding her pants delicately, as if they were some sacred treasure that might shatter if he breathed too hard, sniffing gingerly at the cloth near the knee. 'It did smell good, a sort of musty leathery smell, with just a touch of smoke. Yes the smell of dragon. The Scarlet dragon. Other smells too like soap but that smell was the important one. You who is younger, remember this smell. This is the smell of the one who is loved.' Scarlet watched and sensed the silent nonverbal exchange amused. They hadn't realized she was no longer lost in thought.

'Yes, I remember these things I was taught but it is one thing to know in the mind and another to experience it in the senses.' The younger communicated, his large slightly lupine ears twitching with excitement. While spoken Kestran was the official language of Garrison and required use for all, the Hybrids (and the less stiff of the flatfaced officers) used the less verbal 'Hushian' unofficially. Much of it was emotions and intentions communicated through their external fields, but the bulk was body language that could translate well across the varied forms of the shape-shifters. Flatfaces hated it, hated that the Hybrids had a "secret language" but in the military it allowed communication in forms where normal speech was impossible and was thus too useful to be fully suppressed. Besides, how did you stop people from using body language? Or from letting thier external energy fields from touching? The military part of her mind told her again how useful this "secret" language would be once the revolution started.

Scarlet flicked her field locally to get their attention, a Hushian equivalent of clearing her throat, though she still kept the bulk of her field passive to lessen the disturbance to the rest of the compound. The two guards looked over at her, the younger eager and the elder mortified that he had been caught sniffing her clothing. She rolled her eyes at them with a quirked half smile on her lips, field wry as she canted her shoulders in a way that said 'you two are idiot goofballs but I'm not mad'. It took her a moment to get her voice to work, it always took a bit to shift back to spoken Kestran after a strong soul singing. "Just make sure all the pieces are clean and folded waiting for me when I get back to my quarters." She said in a laughing voice.

"But sir"

"Don't 'but sir' me, just do it. If you feel guilty polish my boots while you are at it." She unfolded her wings from her back. The white cap sleeved shirt she was wearing had a deep V in the back so the cloth wouldn't interfere with her wings. They flopped limply like wet rags from the compression formulas that were necessary to keep them folded tight and flat enough against her back to fit under her uniform. Almost immediately they began to stiffen. Bones that had been as pliant as jelly straightened and hardened, seeming to inflate as they took their true shape. What little feminine, mammalian shape there had been to her body vanished in an instant and there was a cracking of ribs as he rib cage bowed outward, sternum thrusting forward as it changed to allow increased anchorage for her flight muscles, mimicking that of a bird's. She didn't need to reshape her form to fly any more than she needed to deflate her wings to hide them, but it sure felt good to beat physics at their own game.

Tendons tightened and muscle filled out as she broke out in gleaming red scales on a foot and hand that were elongating into something more reptilian with delicately curved golden claws. The scales only fully covered her vitals and extremities leaving it to peter out until it left her knees and elbows and much of her face bare. Well knee and elbow. Like her left arm, metal replacing flesh all the way up to her reconstructed shoulder, her left leg was metal starting just above the knee. Executing a single line of code triggered the unfolding and reshaping of her metal limbs to roughly approximate the shape and flexibility of her flesh and blood ones when changed. The big toe on her right foot separated as the foot itself elongated, becoming a modified dragon's paw that was easy to walk on with the primary digits together, yet could just as easily work as a grasper with its now opposable largest toe.

In just a couple minutes the transformation was complete leaving Scarlet in her natural, angular, half dragon form instead of the less visually offensive form she usually took among Kestrans and other mammalian bipeds. Golden horns gleamed in the sunlight where they sprouted form the top of her head, arching back to protect her skull and where he neck would have attached at the back if she had been shaped correctly for a dragon. Crimson wings snapped open, the deceptively thin phalanges stretching the draconic hide between them like the ribs of a collapsible tent. The sky called to her and her soul answered.

Her wings shifted to be perfectly vertical as he launched herself directly up into the air, her momentum taking her a dozen feet up into the air before she even started moving her wings. The leading edges snapped forward and up, scooping at the air above her then slamming it downward with a force that would shatter bones. Landwalkers never realized the strength required to fly, the power in wings compared to the mass they must carry. The wings that could carry a twenty pound bird through the air could also break the arm of a full grown man. How strong then must wings be to lift a person into the sky? It was that fight against gravity, with only air to push off of, that she craved.

Past the thunder of her beating wings and her racing pulse in her ears she could hear the sound of a hundred more wings thrashing the air. She checked her field and let out a wry chuckle. More than half of the flighted Hybrids on base had joined her in the air and it looked as if the rest were on their way. She opened a link to base declaring an emergency flight drill so they wouldn't get in trouble. They always wanted to follow her. All knew it was rare for her to break protocol but when she did they always wanted to join in. If she had run off into the wilds needing to hunt half the runners in the base would have followed her. If she had set out to fight more dangerous creatures that still threatened outlying villages dozens of warrior prowls would have been right on her heels. This was why the flatfaces feared her, she didn't have to try to lead, the Hybrids followed her eagerly. Especially after a soul singing. But that wasn't really necessary, even those who had never felt her presence or heard her voice revered her with almost worshipful awe. They believed in her, they trusted her, they wanted to be with her.

But she had to leave. Earth was calling to her.

But why her? She was practically on the other side of the galaxy. There were so many guardians that were closer. But Earth called _her_. She could feel her distress radiating outward, the call reaching out of her into the flyers near her. They sang with her, words fields, worry confusion comfort hope trust. Beat the air, slam by slam by slam, hurling yourself up into the air again and again and again. Feel the sky sing, the stars call to your soul. The wind teases your hair, tearing at fur and feathers, feel as the air it fights and lifts you. Sing the song of flight. The open sky stretches on forever. It calls to you, your soul answers and your body soars. Up and down, strong and weak, lift and pull. Ride the updrafts wings outstretched, speed for height up we go. Dive down strong, height for speed, slit your eyes against the wind, diving faster than feet can run. Here we are free, here we can soar, every direction you can go. Leave the earth beneath you, leave below all that weighs you down, let your cares fall away. Fly the sky it calls you, it sings your soul and lifts you. That part of your soul that is of the sky, it draws you high as you sing. Sing to the sky with all you are, heart soul mind and body. Your spirit lifts you up, let all the rest follow. Follow up into the sky. Free up in the sky.


	3. Prologue: Swift Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No point in waiting around. And its not like the Nobility wasn't overjoyed to get rid of her as soon as possible.
> 
> Next chapter, Transformers!

If earth wanted a guardian then they shouldn't have killed off their own all that time ago. But that was unfair, it wasn't the planet's fault humans were idiots. Besides all those humans were long long dead. She didn't know when exactly earth's guardian had died but humans with their short lives and rapid reproduction... fifteen generations? Maybe more? Maybe a lot more.

This was the last chance for her to back out though, and a small sharp something inside her screamed to stay. This was her home, her place, this was hers to protect. The ferocious instincts of a mother dragon curled tight around the eggs of her nest, glaring hate and death at any threat or interloper. Scarlet's eyes flickered to one side to the shells and her processor accessed a picture database of all the soldiers on base. These were not eggs, objects to be guarded at all costs, but hatchlings, people, who must be allowed the freedom to grow and change. Sometimes to teach a youngling to fly you must first push them over the edge.

"Yes sir, you have been informed correctly." Scarlet said, spine straight, posture perfectly erect, uniform crisp, freshly ironed, boots polished to a blinding sheen. She was the model of the perfect soldier, so sharp she made everyone else look slovenly by comparison. By the time she had landed from her flight earlier the whole base had known she was leaving Garrison. News traveled fast but she had still managed to get her hair and uniform in order before the emergency summons had reached. Bless Private Regulations, whatever his name might be, and his trainee for taking such good care of her dress uniform. Her appearance was a weapon in her silent war against the nobility.

Lord Henifer, Major General of Garrison, scowled at her from behind the high table looking slightly disheveled. The four other nobles who had taken the other seats didn't look too much better though she could read a faint desperate glee glinting in their eyes. She wondered what they had been doing when they'd heard the news and rushed over. Lady Estemel seemed to have a stray curler in her fetching silvery faun locks. "So... why exactly are you leaving?" The Major General asked with a scowl.

"Requesting to leave." Lord Tregoth corrected quickly, unwilling to cede power even in implication, though he wanted her gone more than anyone else currently alive.

"I have been called. I am needed elsewhere." She said voice perfectly calm and even, respectful even as her passive external field radiated quiet disdain that the flatfaced High Lords could barely feel, their power too weak to form an external field. But the sensed it enough for it to irritated and that was all she needed.

"Called? Called?" Lady Estenel shrilled wrinkling her flattened nose in disgust. "Called by whom, and what for? Your responsibilities are here, caring for the tube children. We wouldn't want any of the filthy beasts to be spoiled by some programming error or maintenance issue." She said fluttering her eyelashes coyly, smirk only partially hidden by her elegant fan.

It was all Scarlet could do not to fling herself snarling at the woman, bared teeth seeking her throat. As it was her eyes narrowed, red heat collecting in their pupils, expression shifting toward an icy scowl. She hated to hear the sleepers called 'tube children' or 'filthy beasts', and to say 'spoiled' when the Lady meant 'die'. They were people! Individuals! And yet they were treated as tools, disposable tools. To hear the noblewoman so casually threatening them made Scarlet's blood boil. She could tell from the increase in the woman's smirk that she could see how upset she'd made Scarlet. Blast, a loss, she'd tried so hard to conceal her wrath. In a couple breaths she recomposed herself. "I am needed on another world." She kept her voice cool and aloof. "My current duties are important but they could be just as easily tended to by others, Ma'am." She redirected her gaze to stare directly ahead stoic.

"So this, what, a planet is calling for your help and you intend to just ditch all your responsibilities? Let everyone down so you can go gallivanting off to hero elsewhere? You are the Hero of Garrison and don't you have some... some..." Major General Henifer gestured vaguely "sacred obligation? You know, that thing you go on and on about."

"Guardianship, I am the Guardian of Garrison. But I am needed elsewhere. I _must_ go." They wanted her out of their way, she could feel it radiating off them in harsh waves even now. Did they intend to make her beg? A door opened silently behind her and a few people entered lining up behind her in the large room, moving noiselessly their fields wrapped close around themselves, all but silent. Technically, politically, she did need the permission of the council to leave, but her fierce spirit rebelled, writhing inside her hidden by a mask of a pleasant expression. Run. Fight. Needed. But she had chosen long ago not to be a ruler and to instead obey the laws of the people she protected, and with the threat to the younglings directly under her command... maybe they could make her beg.

"Must?" Lord Tregoth gave an elegant chuckle edged in malice. "And abandoning everyone in their time of need? Some hero you are."

"Garrison is at peace, no enemies threaten, I am needed elsewhere."

"Oh but the people believe in you, they trust you, how will they survive without you? Those in the outlying villages only have the courage to tend their fields because they know you are there to come to their rescue."

"With all due respect sir, the council has ensured that I not be involved in any emergency responses in decades." She said voice cold but polite, everything perfectly polite and in order to eye and ear while her field darkened the whole room. Perfectly behaved, a tamed beast, but only on the surface. She could feel the hate and fear increasing in the flatfaced nobles before her. Stupid power plays, waste of time.

"Oh but you are a planetary symbol, the Hero of Garrison. What would we _ever_ do without you?" Lord Tregoth drawled in a mocking voice of saccharine sweetness.

A symbol, that was all she really was here anymore. From the early days when their numbers had been few and she worked side by side with the colonists to tame this wild hostile world. Scarlet held herself perfectly still, not giving them the satisfaction of a reaction. "I am needed elsewhere." She paused, just a flicker, as she realized what she must say. "I am not needed here." She _was_ needed! Protect. Help. Free. But the revolution had not begun, she could not free those who did not want to be free. She couldn't help yet.

The words were still bitter on her tongue.

The flatfaces exchanged smirks, triumphant. "Well I suppose she is a bit obsolete."

"The idea of heroes is _so_ antiquated."

"And one hero to a whole world? Pehleaase."

"She's"

"No." Scarlet intoned, a bit more forcefully than she meant to, but she kept her voice cool and steady. She would not let them win this. They looked over at her irritated.

"You know better than to speak out of turn _General Razorclaw_." Lady Estenel snapped, expression going ugly as she used the false name their parents had given her to create a gap between Scarlet and the people.

Scarlet gave a small elegant bow of acknowledgement. "Unlike your slaves ma'am, I am under no obligation to follow the 'do not speak unless spoken to' rule. I was summoned here to provide information so _I will_. You are wrong, people always need heroes. They always have and they always will." She testified voice firm, proud, not of herself but of the flame of spirit that lived in the hearts of those she so loved. Their hate grew and she kept her expression politely blank even as she realized her declarations meant she was going to have to reiterate her earlier debasement. "I cannot be that hero. My time... is past." She could keep from hesitating a moment and could feel the noble's glee at the sign of weakness. "I am needed, elsewhere."

"Yes, your time is past."

"Long past really."

"Should've been put out to pasture decades ago."

Scarlet dropped her gaze as if shamed, better to let them feel they'd won, exult in their victory, that'd move things along faster. She was so composed, in control at all times, refusing to give them the satisfaction. But purpose came before pride, and she stood silently as they mocked and joked between them watching her like the ravening beasts they were. She let her perfect posture droop slightly, fists clenching, a faint tremble to her normally stiff shoulders. Humiliation and insults against herself and those she protected were an acceptable price to pay.

She waited for the cruel self indulgent words to slow but after fifteen minutes of pointless (or rather sharp and very pointed) blather, she was done, and it would fit with the breaking role she was playing. "I must leave, I am needed elsewhere. Do... I have your permission?" With just the right touch of a defeated tremble to her voice.

They were all so delighted it was a wonder none of them were poisoned to death by their own venomous glee. As it was they were all rendered mute for a time they were laughing so hard. "It is So good to see you know your place Razorclaw." One of them managed sneeringly as he gasped for breath.

"Why of _course_ you have our permission. We wouldn't want to interfere with your fulfillment of your oh-so-important duties." Lord Tregoth drawled. His grin was victorious but he was in full command of himself again. Of all her opponents in this political 'game' he was the most sly, most devious, and best at putting on a show. Murder was wrong but boy did he make political assassination look good. "We have even prepared a team of experts to aid you in your quest." He said gesturing grandly to those who had snuck in earlier.

Scarlet was tempted to turn but managed to hold back when Tregoth gestured for the others to come forward. Dutifully they lined up between her and the dais facing her, ready for inspection. Lord Tregoth began to speak animatedly, praises to their skill and efficiency but she shunted his voice away, relying on her own senses and data files for the information she needed.

Two bonewelds, one fleshweld and three skinwelds, all ex-military Hybrids (not retired of course, Hybrids were disposed of and replaced when they "wore out", but the most skilled soldiers were sold off to the private sector as bodyguards or, more illegally, assassins and spies). All six were assassin level, their fields wrapped tightly around their own internal nodes. Their steps earlier had been utterly silent, even now they emitted no noise or scent, they were all but undetectable to normal people unless you managed to look directly at them, and you could only see people with their training if they let you (which was usually right before they killed you). But what really chilled her was not the records of all they'd done (including secret records she had hacked at different points), or their grim presence, but the emotional absence as her own powerful field pricked and teased at theirs, probing them. They were shells, all of them, emotions and personalities extracted by dark magitech. The hate that roared up inside her would have sent any sane person scrambling for cover but the only ones within the reach of her field were the nobles who couldn't feel the fields of others, and the shells, who could not feel period.

"Thank you Lord Tregoth, for the _EXTREMELY GENEROUS_ offer." She said with brittle sweetness. She'd bet the whole planet that the shells were under orders to toss her into the first sun or black hole they came across. "I need neither escort nor ship, I have one of my own."

"But you must have an escort!"

"Someone of your rank!"

"It would look bad in front of the people."

Scarlet grimaced. "Fine, I'll take an escort but I will choose them. If it is acceptable to you I plan to launch at oh nine hundred hours tomorrow and will keep you all updated on my progress and travel plans." Eyes widened in shock, they couldn't have hoped to be rid of her so soon. She could see the gears turning in their minds, plans already being laid. Their desire to be rid of her swiftly beat out the need to further harass her, for now.

"Fine, no one important, your selections must be cleared by me and all your supplies personally supplied since you insist on rushing so." Major General Henifer said with a bit of a scowl.

Scarlet bowed stiffly and marched out of the room, waiting until the door closed before she broke into a run. Launch at nine tomorrow? And she hadn't yet had time to plan much of anything yet. Her processor whirled as she shed her dress uniform for the second time in as many hours. With any luck she'd never have to wear it again. Her bodyguards raced after her, one actually yowling in distress, and she made a sharp gesture and an EM field flux to tell them to check their messages.

Launch 0900 hours tomorrow. Dismissed from Military. Must hurry. Spread news.  
Scarlet

Her processor ran through the files of every living Hybrid with military training, seeking possible candidates for her escort. Fifteen optimal matches. It tried to open the files to let her review the selections but she stopped it and ordered only image and impression data to open for each one. She knew this was an important decision so she went with her instinct and stopped it on one near the end. Young, female, still in training by her age. Training in another base, almost eight hundred miles away. Less than an hour's flight then if she pushed. She was in the air almost as soon as the doors opened, breaking the sound barrier directly over the military base and shooting off as she reviewed her selection's file.

241F1355  
Training: 2nd year  
Prowl: Training Rosebite  
Position: Fifth claw  
Pilot: Third left wing  
Boneweld  
Carnivore: Feline: Carcal  
Skin: Tan  
Coat: None  
Hair: Gold brown  
Eyes: Gold  
Height: 6'2"  
Stones:  
Primary: Earth  
Secondary: Barrier Air Knowledge  
Tertiary: Heal Enhance Disguise Seek Speed  
Incompatible: None  
Modifications: None

No incompatibilities? Power and flexibility that. Unmodified was a pro too, as was boneweld, bonewelds were the best form for shapeshifting, and she was much too tall to walk among humans unnoticed without being reshaped. She scanned through the rest of the military record then plotted out exactly all that must be done to launch on time. Sometimes being part computer was handy, or part robot, an arm and a leg not just half her head. Those were the trickiest parts, more difficult to regenerate than mangled flesh and bone, but during centuries since they had been installed in a misguided attempt to save her life (the Kestrans who'd done it hadn't understood the whole 'basically immortal' thing), the power in her blood had accepted them as a part of her and now would automatically repair damages. Replacing broken parts was still usually easier and quicker, but having the wires deep inside repair themselves was far better than having to re-thread them. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like not to have this unliving metal weighting her down or a processor and data drives inside her skull, what it would be like to be fully organic again. It had been so long she couldn't remember how it felt to be without them.

  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

  
34 minutes 25 seconds after she left the main base she landed in the Nellis Air Force Base and she was expected. Scarlet snorted, fly at almost Mach 2 and you still couldn't outrun the gossip. They'd even had time to figure out where she was going. The communication network between Hybrids was impressive, it would be a great asset in the coming war. She dove, pulling up at the last moment with two powerful wing beats before changing shape midair to her usual form to land lightly on bare feet, her metal one letting out a faint clink on the concrete.

"General Razorclaw! It is such an honor to" The base commander began with a huge grin

"Scarlet."

"What?"

"My name is Scarlet, I am a private citizen not a general. Use my proper name." She felt almost giddy.

"Uh, Miss Razor

"No. Scarlet. Just Scarlet." The poor man was visibly sweating.

"Miss... Scarlet?" He offered tentatively and she relented.

"Fine." She didn't want to deal with him. No more red tape, she was done. And certainly no standing on ceremony. "I take it you know why I am here since you managed to anticipate my arrival?"

"Er... Requisitioning some of my soldiers?"

"Exactly. But just one. I ask I be allowed free access to your entire compound and soldiers for the space of one hour. Then I will take my leave."

"Oh." He said with obvious disappointment, still off balance. "Is there anything I can"

"Nope. Bye!" She said and sent out a powerful burst of 'ignore me'. Immediately the welcome committee lost track of her, looking around, and even through her as she rushed off, without seeing her. She wasn't a general anymore, she didn't have to play by their stupid rules anymore. She felt so free.

Quickly she accessed the memory of the feel of her target's external field. There. Scarlet hopped from one building to the next in silence, going unnoticed by skill now instead of tricks, until she caught sight of her target doing hand to hand drills.

Tall, lean, tough, she had the sort of physique that was considered the peak of physical beauty and perfection among some cultures, but here on Garrison was synonymous with slavery. Her sandy skin lacked fur (as her file had indicated) but her angular part feline face sported black and white markings congruent to that of her alternate form and her peaked ears were tipped in black. It was actually an attractive look but it would have to go when Scarlet reshaped her to blend with humans. Her processor flitted through data designing some options for the girl's look while Scarlet watched her fight and the occasional brief Hushian gestures and field interactions between her and the other soldiers. What she saw was good. She shifted her vision, eyes turning gold briefly. Good there too.

A small warmth kindled in her heart. It had been a long long time since she'd had a companion on her travels. It would be... nice not to be alone. And the girl might have learned enough to... This should be a short mission to earth. Maybe a taste of freedom, seeing what life could be like, would wake her up, and then she could wake the rest of her people. Teach them of freedom and equality, a hunger for their rights. Definitely base in America for the mission then. Scarlet's heart ached, she needed to set them free and perhaps this young bright girl would be the firebrand to start a revolution.

Decided Scarlet waited until the drill was over then casually dropped down and walked over. With a faint pulsing of her field she gently pushed the others aside and went to the girl with a smile. "I take it you know who I am?" The girl gaped at her, hero worship in her eyes, but also eagerness, curiosity, and the twinkle of laughter and intelligence.

"Yes. Yes, of course I do, you are General Razorclaw, the scarlet dragon the..." Scarlet winced slightly at the titles but it was to be expected. Unexpected was the way the girl cut off and gave her an intent puzzled look. Usually people were too in awe to notice the first time.

"Scarlet. Just Scarlet." She said in way of explanation then slowly a smile grew to cover her face. The girl's ears twitched slightly in anticipation, field excited as Scarlet offered a hand and extended the invitation she had offered to every individual who had become a companion to her in the past. "Would you like to go on an adventure?"

The girl's grin split her face. "Oh yes, I most certainly would."


	4. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our beloved Transformers finally appear, Optimus is adorable, and Scarlet is ornery.

It was so brief he would have missed it if he hadn't been at the console when the message came. For a moment he thought the primitive human tech was malfunctioning again as several hundred signals came in as a confused garble. Then he recognized first one then five then almost twenty different sequences in the mess. Distress. Help. Under attack. Not bothering to close anything on the screen Ratchet's digits raced to pinpoint the source which he barely managed before the condensed message and tiny blip of a ship vanished from his readings.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

{Optimus} Ratchet's voice sounded worriedly through Optimus Prime and Bulkhead's comms. The two were out on patrol, their vehicle modes bumping along a country road out in the middle of nowhere USA.

"What is it Ratchet?" The eighteen wheeler asked in a troubled grumbled.

{It's... I picked up a strange distress call just now...} The medic hesitated, apparently unsure how to explain.

Bad sign. "Ratchet."

{It wasn't one signal but hundreds on different frequencies simultaneously. Most of it I didn't recognize but there were Cybertronian codes in it, most prewar, as well as human ones and a couple from at least a dozen space-faring races.}

"What? All that?" Bulkhead burst out. "Are you sure you aren't suffering a malfunction? Or maybe some sort of prank?"

{I am sure, it was as if they uncloaked, sent out every distress call in their data banks compressed to fit into a couple nanoclicks then stopped.}

Optimus felt a grave foreboding that seemed to be echoed by the Matrix of Leadership within him. It had been humming unhappily for months now. Discordant trills would frequently rise up to be followed by silence as if the Matrix was waiting for some answer. Now it seemed almost to buzz in his chassis, the hum rising to an unpleasant pitch. "What happened Ratchet?"

{I managed to find their ship before it vanished again, destroyed or cloaked. They were crashing into the Arctic, tiny ship or large escape pod.}

"Ratchet, open the Ground Bridge, someone needs our help."

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The arctic was just as freezing as it had been a week ago when he and Arcee had nearly frozen to death during the scraplet infestation on base. But just as the chill struck him as he rushed out of the glowing Ground Bridge the sound of battle assaulted his audials. Metal clashed on metal, blasters fired, and a spark chilling roar shook the ice beneath his pedes. Something huge and red was in the sky with Decepticon fighters but his focus was on the strange red and black ship edged with gold and the small human figure sprawled next to it surrounded by blood and splatters of glowing blue energone and some vibrant purple fluids. Three Decpticons were approaching the ship on foot.

"Autobots Attack!" Optimus roared, mask locking into place over the lower half of his face while hands switched for blasters. There wasn't time to ask why there was a dying human next to the crashed alien spaceship, only time to rush to the rescue while he and his fellow Autobots opened fire on the approaching Decepticons. He'd seen to many die in this awful war, friends families enemies, and seen a hundred times more after the fact. Sparkless husks in various stages of destruction, or without a mark on them, victims of disease, starvation, or even simple overwhelming despair. Would he have to watch this human die too?

He'd been ignoring the airborne Decepticons, trusting his team to cover him as he pressed forward toward the still human. Ignoring until the huge red something dropped out of the sky in an elegant swoop, snatching up the leading Decepticon mere feet from his goal. Optimus's concealed jaw dropped as his optics trailed the crimson blur back up into the sky. It looked like a Predacon, though it was clearly organic. Powerful hind legs and forelegs that griped the captured Decepticon tight while massive wings pulled them into the sky. A long graceful neck ended in a sleek head with a single pair of golden back facing horns that protected the join between neck and skull. Powerful jaws tore into the captured bot, ripping through the 'Con's armor as if designed for that very purpose while the unfortunate vehicon screamed, his glowing energon splattering both crimson scales and the ice far below. The creature was beautiful in its feral might and the destruction it wrought. Beautiful and terrible.

The Decepticons were retreating, having an organic Predacon in the skies and Autobots on the ground was clearly more than their small squad could handle. His fellow Autobots had rushed forward while he had been distracted and had formed a defensive circle around the injured human. Optimus moved forward quickly as Arcee retracted her blasters and knelt to check the human for breathing. Even her servos were not sensitive enough to find the pulse of one of these fragile creatures. Primus please don't let the human be dead. And please don't let them die after all this either he added abashedly. He'd seen so very many die of his own people in this awful war. Seeing a human die for it was worse, so much worse, these fragile creatures who even as adults were hardly the size of sparklings, whose lives were so laughably short and had, in the words of Ratchet himself, "no protective shell".

Arcee looked at him relief in her optics and gave him one of her wry half smiles holding up a slim servo, the grey metal fogged by the injured human's breath. Optimus ex-vented a sigh of relief and let himself take quick stock of his surroundings. The air was warm, almost balmy, near the crashed space vessel, a heat that could not be explained by the friction of reentry for the ship and surrounding ice were not damaged enough for a true crash landing. Whoever the pilot they'd had sufficient control that the ship had hit at a relatively shallow angle, gouging a trench less than a hundred feet long in the ice before halting. An emergency landing caused by damage done by energon blasters evident in scorch marks and tears in the crimson and black ship's hull. Apparently they'd run afoul of the Nemesis when they'd sent out the distress call, no wonder there had been Decepticons at the crash site. Unfortunately that probably meant the Nemesis was on its way.

:~:It's empty, I can't see anyone alive inside.:~: Bumblebee beeped withdrawing his helm from the open door in the alien ship's side. The size of the door suggested a being somewhat larger than a human though still very small compared to a Cybertronian. In fact the whole ship wasn't too much larger than Optimus Prime himself, the size and shape of a small aquatic cruiser, though far more sleek in design. Even damaged, scorched and splattered with blood and energon it was pleasing to the optics. It was a ship that had been greatly loved and meticulously maintained.

So where was the pilot? The only options were the organic Predacon, which could hardly have fit in such a small vessel, or the injured human. Optimus frowned. "Are you sure no one is in there?" Sentient life came in all shapes and sizes, not all readily identifiable as people, and it wasn't as if the scout could fit inside to check hiding places. He turned his optics to Arcee.

"The human is unconscious, has obviously broken bones, and is bleeding, but not in immediate danger." The two wheeler reported and moved as if to pick the small body up. An energon freezing roar exploded over head, the same one that had greeted his audials when Optimus had first exited the Ground Bridge.

As one the Autobots looked to the source, weapons flaring and the massive crimson near Predacon landed near them in a wave of heat. Ice hissed into steam where the massive clawed feet touched down and the powerful tail lashed the ground next to it. The beast's crimson scales were splattered with fresh energon, especially around throat and jaws and those powerful forelegs that held its previous meal in place. A giant flying reptile that ate metal and burned with unholy heat. It was so obviously not formed of inorganic metal struts and plating, not a mechanism of any sort, yet how could a mere organic mirror so perfectly a Predacon. It even ate Cybertronians as the ancient terrors were said to. Yet as menacing and openly dangerous as the creature was he felt he could see and intelligence in those deep purple eyes that burned with crimson flames in the center where pupils should have been.

"Autobots." He said, more to draw their attention to him than to issue an order as he withdrew his blasters to allow his servos free again in a show of peace. He didn't turn from the great beast in front of him, which on all fours still nearly matched him in height, but he could hear his fellow Autobots retract their weapons as well behind him. Those burning eyes narrowed but never broke contact with his optics. It most certainly was intelligent and had singled him out as the leader, even before it had landed. A glowing puple fluid was leaking from numerous wounds, a perfect match to that which had formed steaming puddles around the ship and wounded human. Abruptly the purple eyes change, turning to the purest brightest gold, even the flames that burned at their center. Those eyes seemed to tear into him. He felt his spark and processor laid bare before that alien intelligence.

So he did what he always did when confronted with someone new. He threw all the trust and respect at them he could, as if he could force the universe and the people around him to be worthy of his respect and trust by launching it at them preemptively. Rationally it shouldn't work, it was an evolved version of the naivete he'd approached the world with as a young data clerk in Iacon all those millennia ago, rampant optimism couldn't actually change the world. But perhaps the only good thing about being him was that, somehow, it did. Time and again he would approach new people, new bots, and he would sandbag them with all the trust and respect he could muster, creating an image of who he wanted them to be, who he believed they could be, and acting as if they already were that person. And time and again he would watch as even the smallest and apparent weakest would rise up, straighten their spinal struts, and BECOME, as if they could not bear to be anything less than what he hoped they'd be. In a function plagued by war, betrayal, and the death of countless friends and loved ones, this was the one thing about being Optimus Prime that made his function worth living.

In front of him the great mouth, wreathed in fresh energon stains, gaped menacingly. He tried not to let himself wonder if he had made a terrible mistake, that his function was about to be ended by those golden fangs. A strange mechanical clicking sound emitted from the throat then a distinct and familiar voice. "That? It's the Autobot insignia. We fight for freedom and equality among our people. Our leader is Optimus Prime, a better bot you will not meet. The ones you met before sound like Decepticons, our enemies. Thank you for being willing to give me a chance in spite of them."

:~:You know Prowl?:~: Bumblebee burst out, no doubt before he remembered that this creature would not understand the bips and whirrs that were all the maimed scout could manage.

The golden eyes widened a tad and turned to focus on the yellow scout. The creature seemed to relax, a faint smile seeming to tug at the ends of the long muzzle, and it nodded. It _nodded_. Optimus glanced over at the scout in time to see the young mech's doorwings rise slightly in surprise, and a bit of excitement, at being understood. "Yoooou aaaarrrre Aaaaahpteeemuuuus Pehraaaaaaahm?" The beast rumbled in a rich musical voice that sounded distinctly feminine.

Optimus's helm snapped back around to regard the creature. Prowl's voice before had clearly been a recording, albeit a perfect one, but he hadn't expected a coherent voice from a mouth and throat so clearly not designed to form all the required sounds. In for a dollar in for a dime as the humans said. His battlemask opened and vanished into the sides of his helm with a snap. "Yes, I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We picked up your distress call and came as quickly as we could manage." He offered a servo in friendship hoping that somehow the gesture would be understood by a creature that went on all fours. He wanted to ask about the human as well but refrained for the moment.

Abruptly the great beast began folding up and into itself in a way not unlike that of his own people transforming though the bright crimson hide hid most of the motions. "Primus." He heard Bulkhead swear as the form became smaller and smaller, rearing up and then balancing on hind legs that turned to human legs, as feet shortened and thighs lengthened. Not quite like a Cybertronian transforming then, more a smooth continuous series of change and internal adjustments. Crimson scaled hide turned black in patches that separated from the rest while the rest turned to an eerie bone white color and a moment later something almost human stood small but fierce before him wearing dark pants and shirt, long golden horns lingered in a mane of unnaturally bright red hair and large crimson scaled wings folded tightly against her back, golden clawed tips jutting up behind her shoulders while the ends extended to just below her knees like some bizarre cape. Her sternum too jutted out giving her chest bowed out appearance and her eyes gleamed that uncanny purple that blended into bright magenta flames where pupils should have been. Primus what was this creature?

A smile came to her and as she spoke he could see her teeth were still a gleaming gold and viciously pointed even now. "Well met Optimus Prime. I admit I am surprised how fast you got here. Almost as surprised as I am to see you kind here on earth. My ward" She nodded toward the injured human, who seemed to be stirring, "was injured when we were shot out of the sky. Can we away with you before their ship gets here and that I might tend her injuries?" She spoke oddly, words and accent, as if English was unfamiliar in her mouth. 

"Of course, we are glad to help in any way we can." Optimus said as the small organic approached then passed him to get to her injured friend. Her own wounds were bleeding, the bright glowing purple staining the dark cloth she wore alongside the energon blue. Now that she was in a more human form she no longer radiated heat and the temperature was beginning to drop rapidly. Optimus contacted Ratchet giving a brief update and requesting a Ground Bridge.

:~:I'll carry her.:~: Bumblebee peeped moving to scoop the injured human up.

The woman frowned. "She has broken legs and arm, it would be better if"

:~:You are injured as well. I will be careful.:~:

"How'd... how'd you get so tiny?" Bulkhead asked staring at her puzzled, a question they all were wondering.

"Size is an illusion." She said grandly, a hint of a smug smile on her lips. "Speaking of" she turned to the ship and rattled off a series of strange sounds, commands in an alien language no doubt. The ship let out a groan then shrank abruptly to about the third of its original size with a grinding and sputtering of mechanisms. "Can you carry that big guy? I'd hate for those jerks to kife my ship. Don't want to find out what they'd do with Kestran tech at their disposal too."

"Ur Okay. Wow it's pretty light." The Wrecker rumbled as he hefted the small almost capsule shaped ship.

"If it weren't so damaged I'd able to carry him myself. Thank you...?"

"Bulkhead. This is Bumblebee and Arcee."

"Nnn. I am Scarlet. Ah! Bumblebee be" The injured human let out a cry of pain. "Oh hey, don't worry about it. She's better off unconscious until I can get her bones set a'ways." The woman said consolingly and as Optimus looked over at her he saw she had changed again now looking passably human, wings and horns gone and her body fully human shaped. Such a strange strange creature.

It was only as they all rushed through the swirling green of the Ground Bridge that Optimus realized that the Matrix of Leadership inside him had calmed, its gentle pulsing returned to its normal soothing beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Optimus Prime doesn't want this angry at him
> 
> Though Scarlet (usually) isn't that spiny and her claws horns and fangs are gold
> 
> Still an awesome picture, one of the best I have for reference


	5. Through A Medic's Optics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet is not particularly impressed by Scarlet's improvised warpaint. Her upgrades on the other hand...

Ratchet had served under Optimus Prime for a long long time and had been a close friend to Orion Pax for quite a while before that, so he knew well of the Prime's tendency to bring home strays. He'd once joked that Orion would bring home a sparkeater if he found one injured. It was a joke. It wasn't supposed to happen for real. And yet, walking beside Bumblebee, small and fragile looking, talking to the young scout, was some Decepticon eating monster. Optimus Prime had only given vague details, something about the organic turning into a Predacon, but Ratchet hadn't wanted to believe that they had just rescued a creature that _ate Cybertronians_. But there she was, skin and clothes, mouth and throat, stained with fresh energon. Her eyes met his optics, one flesh the other artificial, both burning with unholy flame, and he felt a chill run through him. He saw death and murder and cruelty there, a monster that could tear his fellow Autobots apart as easily as it had the Decepticons.

"It's psychological, do you think the Decepticons would have broke ranks and run half so quick if I wasn't eating their buddies?" The monster said flashing its teeth. It looked so harmless, so much like a fragile human, if not for the fresh energon and what looked like human blood too? And what was that glowing purple stuff? Oh Primus, it wasn't dark energon was it? Ratchet tore his optics from her gaze to give Optimus a pleading look as the Groundbridge powered down.

"We were lucky Ratchet, none of our own were injured this time." Optimus said, completely misunderstanding. "And the children are still at school." The Prime turned to look back at the monster and the pathetic bleeding bundle the scout was carrying with deep concern. "This is not something I would have them see."

Why? Because one had the face of death and the other was a maimed human? Or because it would give Miko ideas? If anything it might be a good lesson to the overeager child as to what happened to tiny flesh creatures that involved themselves in a war between giant beings made of metal. Might even stop her from trying to sneak off on missions for a while. He felt a faint tickle of guilt. He didn't _really_ want to crush the girl's spirit, just a little, not a lot, just enough that she would stop throwing herself into danger.

"And what do you think you are doing?" A sharp voice demanded. Ratchet looked down to find the monster femme glaring up at him, teeth bared like a snarling beast, the fresh energon screaming at him.

He had automatically come over to the makeshift medical table Bumblebe had set the injured human on. Ratchet scowled down at the bristling female, who was standing on _his_ medical table in _his_ medbay hovering over _his_ patient getting blood and energon everywhere. "I am the doctor here." he said disdainfully. "I was informed your... friend was badly injured in your crash." He glanced meaningfully at the pathetic broken bundle Bumblebee was whining over. "You _do_ want them to get better don't you?" He sneered his most withering sneer at the puny creature.

And, incredibly, she didn't back down. He'd seen grown mechs with millions of years behind them back down, turning to abashed beneath his glare, but this puny creature didn't even blink her mismatched eyes. "Oh and I _suppose_ you are as expert at organic physiology as you are at your own?" She sneered back.

"Wh-what? Why I"

"That's what I thought." She snapped viciously. "You are not the only doctor here and _I_ will tend to my own patient."

:~:Oh Snaaaaap.:~: Bumblebee chirped.

This monster a doctor? As the shock faded he prepared a derisive snort except... except... hovering protectively over his patient, bristling and snarling, threatening on the most primal level, displaying her dangerous nature openly. Protectively. Not a monster, a mother, with a wounded sparkling among an unfamiliar people that far out massed her and could crush her charge with a single accidental motion.

Oh.

Ratchet felt his bristling plating start to settle, a flush of supreme embarrassment going through him. Those golden eyes (Hadn't they been a different color before?) bore into him as his accidental rival settled too. She broke optic contact abruptly, embarrassed. "Thank you for letting me ahem, use your facilities." She said stiffly and turned away.

"Well surely you are at least going to _wash your hands first_." He snorted crossing his arms. It was as close to an apology as the bloodthirsty fleshling was going to get. She had actually bragged about eating people as a battle tactic. Barbaric.

The female stopped, looking down at herself then giving a weak chuckle. "Right." Soft clicks and hums started in her artificial arm and Ratchet moved to a position where he could see both of the aliens more easily. Three musical tones sounded and a white square of light materialized intersecting the forearm of her artificial arm. It looked similar to the line of light that came from his own medical scanner except he could not see from whence it was projected and somehow it was bounded into an exact shape instead of projecting outward naturally.

The thin sheet of light moved forward toward the end of the metal hand, spilled energon, bits of blood, and the purple substance being driven forward ahead of it leaving the metal surfaces perfectly clean behind it. What? He checked his optical relays for errors and activated all his sensors to verify what he had seen. Sure enough, somehow, the light was not just a substance-less hologram but some sort of... energy field of some sort, contained and regulated by mechanisms within the metal limb. Digits twitched and he felt that hunger of curiosity, that wanting to know how and why it it worked the way it did.

A soft humming, so quiet as to be unheard by humans but apparent to his finely tuned audials, came from both components within the arm as well as the female's own organic vocalizer. And as the humming shifted slightly in tones and frequencies the light construct changed shape, cupping at the bottom to catch the fluids so completely separated from her form so they didn't spill. Then the square settled down onto the ground in front of her and she stepped on it. Then with faint trills in the soft humming the square slowly lifted upward, again passing through everything except the blood energon and the purple stuff that the creature seemed to have for blood (which his readings indicated was not dark energon, thank the AllSpak for small miracles). In the space of twenty seconds she had completely cleansed herself of the mess and contaminants. With quiet, complex trills the thin sheet went up at the edges forming a bowl that eventually closed into a sphere, trapping the vital liquids inside then shrinking. As he watched with full sensors he could see how the gasses passed through the semipermeable barrier without resistance as it shrank down to the size of its fluid contents then compressed harder and harder, the contents suddenly going white hot with the compression then fusing into something far denser than normal substances, still bound by the barrier.

The female beckoned with one hand and the compressed field, now the size of a small pebble, landed in her hand. Something tiny was taken from a small compartment in her artificial hand and stuck onto the containing barrier and then the sounds ceased. But the barrier remained, the tiny something (a bit of crystal?) maintaining it but before he could get a good reading both had vanished into a pocket.

Ratchet looked her over again, scanning her, noting how almost all of her left shoulder was reconstructed of metal, a little flesh over the metal that then connected to the artificial arm, how wires ran up and down through her body, following her spine and trailing down to where metal met flesh halfway down her thigh for the artificial left leg. But wires were also in other places, spreading out where they shouldn't be, thin and fine as gossamer, almost as if the metal itself were some invasive life form. Part of her skull was replaced with metal too, though a layer of skin covered it, perhaps because having a face that was half metal and half flesh was considered too disturbing. Again he felt that surge of curiosity. He hadn't really seen her in action or anything but the way she moved and her ease in her own plating and skin was such to indicate both highly sophisticated technology and masterful integration between the organic and inorganic halves.

She ignored him, kneeling by her human friend and working on setting the broken bones, again with light and strange delicate harmonics from her artificial arm but Ratchet used the time to study her further rather than the strange tools she was using in her craft, in his craft. It took a bit, the metal being of an unfamiliar alloy it took time to figure out how to get his scanners and sensors to perceive through, but he managed to get a look at was was beneath the metallic skull. Intricate wiring and complex circuitry, a powerful processor and sophisticated databanks took up almost two thirds of where the brain should have been. What sort of weapon or accident could have done so much damage to this person and yet allowed them to survive long enough to have the required surgeries to have an artificial processor installed to replace what had been lost. Tiny bits of crystal were peppered throughout the processor and especially the databanks, but he was disappointed to find they were otherwise of about the same technological sophistication as the humans' feeble computers.

Ratchet frowned, shifting his attention to the other artificial parts of the cyborg before him. Arm and leg, extremely high sophistication, lots of strange crystal structures intermingled with metal in ways he couldn't make sense of. Hints of transformation seams, yes, parts that could unfold and change the shape of the limb. Artificial eye, much the same, extremely sophisticated. Embedded processor and databanks, more primitive, better than human's work certainly, but nothing like the limbs or the eye or the carefully crafted and disguised left audial sensor. The mounting points for the artificial limbs were likewise less sophisticated. Then it clicked. The older parts were those that could not be easily removed or replaced, too deeply integrated with her fleshy organics. They had remained as they had been when first installed, whenever that had been, while the more easily removed parts had been upgraded as time went on, as technology had marched onward or as her financial situation had improved and she had been able to afford the upgrades.

"What are you lookin at Doctor?" She asked and he could see the tickles of electricity bouncing between the processor and what was left of her organic brain. Tiny threads of wire and modified brain tissue intermingling as they connected the organic and inorganic halves. Human neurons fired electrical impulses and somehow they had figured out how to integrate the crude technology into it but it also looked as if the organics had changed and adapted to meet the tech halfway. But there was more than just that. Sensors keyed up high, he strained and then he saw it, as he flicked through different frequencies and detection ranges, tiny, almost microscopic, threads of crystals resonating with a strange energy that traveled in tiny patterned pulses throughout her entire frame. Now that he knew what he was looking for it was everywhere, far more invasive and intertwined than the wires, and so thin, of a couple different types, all pulsing with the same strange energy she had been using to work on healing her friend. Almost like a secondary nervous system.

"I said."

"What?" Ratchet's optics cycled through several spectrums before resetting to his normal visible range.

The strange female was looking right at him, purple eyes intent. "What are you looking at?"

"What are you?" He returned frowning.

She let out a sigh. "That is a question for a little later." She said. "I'm almost done healing her, then I'll answer all the questions." She paused a little longer and fidgeted. Ratchet could see faintly glowing purple blood staining her clothes, trickling down one leg and from beneath the crimson hair. A reminder she had her own wounds that needed to be cared for. "No more scans for now okay? It hurts and I'm, I'm trying to concentrate." She sounded tired.

Ratchet frowned. She could feel it? And it hurt? That was... bizarre. Which matched the rest of her. He crossed his arms with a 'Hmmph'. "I am certain Ratchet meant no harm." Optimus said from just behind Ratchet. "He is merely curious, as we all are." But Ratchet had noticed something else while the Prime was speaking. His sensors were still tuned to that strange energy signature, and he noticed there was a lot of it coming off the supposedly human one. Well he wasn't supposed to scan the warrior healer, but he could scan the other one right? There it was, that threading of crystals, like a secondary nervous system only so much finer and more delicate because the crystal matrices were so much smaller than any organic cell. That strange power hummed through every thread, almost seeming to sing, while larger crystals had deposited on her actual bones, in some places even replacing some of the usual calcium based construct. What was this creature? He did a full scan. Despite looking human her internal organs and biochemicals were slightly off, indeed it looked like she was missing a couple human organs, though fully functioning without them. And microscopic crystals finer than the smoothest silt, flowed through her bloodstream, each radiating the tiniest flicker of that same strange energy.

"What is she?" Ratchet asked quietly as the cyborg female straightened up, apparently done with her work, thin glowing splints of the same strange light constructs around each set break.

A faint flicker of a smile, though a tired one. "She's Kestran, shape shifters and crystalpaths all. But yes, not quite human, for all I've helped her look one. As off-worlders its generally easiest to travel among humans in disguise."

Maybe he had more in common with this slightly bloodthirsty warrior and healer than he had first thought. Just so long as Optimus Prime didn't assign him to be the guardian of either of the fleshlings, perhaps he could survive having further intruders in their base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll get to meet the humans, and perhaps even start episode Con-Job ^_^


End file.
